


Fool's Gold

by thegrendel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Gay Sex, Loneliness, M/M, Nan Moravia, Public Sex, Regret, Seduction, You Can't Always Get What You Want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 10:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15705783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrendel/pseuds/thegrendel
Summary: When a lonely woman finally summons up the courage to invite a male live sex-act performer over to her place, things are bound to start popping.





	Fool's Gold


      Who wins . . . in Love?
      Who cries tonight?
      Who's left behind?
      And who, who is lost?
        -- Nan Moravia
          "Love Lost"
    

It's sad when a woman, a loving, passionate woman awakens in a cold,  
empty bed with no one there to embrace her, to hold her in his arms.  
To love her.

There was this one woman. She was the saddest case of all. She knew what  
she wanted, but it just wasn't hers to take.

 

"I don't know why _you_ , of all people, think it's so  
_disgusting_."

"Lisa!"

"It's not as if it's _unnatural_. It's just something men do. Some  
men."

"Look, watching live acts . . . _gay men_ doing those twisted  
things to each other . . . doing each other _in the ass_ for gosh  
sake. And you say _it turns you on_? You, sitting right there up  
front, gawking at the action and getting spattered with all those nasty  
_body fluids_?"

"Yes! It's the sheer intensity of it. The pungent stench of anal  
sex and those grunts of pure, bestial lust. The heat radiating from  
iron-hard cocks and fire-rimmed buttholes. The smoke generated by the  
friction of hard flesh pounding into a violated sphincter. The power,  
the power that comes from tabus being shattered, traditions torn  
asunder. Those beautiful, achingly beautiful young studs with their  
tight little buns, and those tight little buns being violently ripped  
open, penetrated. _Fucked!_ And, sometimes, sometimes, I wish it  
was _me_ up there in the spotlight. Bent over. Taking it in the  
ass. _My_ ass."

"It's a waste of time talking to you, girlfriend. I hope you realize  
how totally freaky your obsession is before you get hurt. Badly."

"You're a fine one to talk, Mandy. You with your coke and meth habits."

"Well, at least I'm not a fuckin' _pervert_ . . ."

 

She didn't know his _real_ name, of course. They called him  
_Gold_ on stage. Gold! As in _Fool's Gold_. And, what did that  
make _her_? The fool?

He could have been a movie star, he was so strikingly handsome. His  
profile wouldn't have looked out of place on an ancient Roman coin and a  
solidly-proportioned well-muscled torso showed the effects of intensive  
weight training. Physically, he was the very model of a virile stud. And,  
Lisa _had_ to have him. One way or another.

In the live acts, Gold usually played the top. He'd swagger onstage,  
slap the bent-over bottom on his spread-open bottom, and ostentatiously  
strip off bikini briefs, revealing a long, hard, throbbing erection. Then,  
of course, he'd proceed to slowly and lovingly bury it, an inch at a time,  
in the writhing and moaning bottom's bottom. The audience loved it.

Lisa found it even more exciting when the tables were turned. When  
Gold was the one being swived. Such a magnificent ass he had! And, if  
only . . . if only he would open it up for _her_ , let _her_  
penetrated him with a ten-inch silicone cock or even a fist! She would  
die and go to heaven.

 

Then there came that one magic night when things fell into place as if  
they had been scripted by a sympathetic director. Gold was high that  
night. Sky high. There had been rumors that he used some sort of weird  
drug cocktail to enhance his performance. Not that there was anything  
wrong with his _normal_ performance, but because he wanted to juice  
it to totally unreal levels. Anyhow, there he was, standing by her table  
after the show, glassy-eyed, and a bit unsteady on his feet. "Grab onto  
my arm and I'll help you," she said.

Lisa just happened to be in full body-armor that night. On the outside,  
butch -- _totally_ butch -- in a _hardened_ drag-king outfit  
that gave her the look of a wannabe-tough punk dude with slight fem  
overtones. Underneath, breasts plastered down by elastic stretchy  
stuff and hips flattened by a wire-reinforced corset band. She even wore  
(just in case!) her fave dildo with its base firmly socketed inside her  
woman-hole. It made a nice bulge where the legs met on her skin-tight  
pants. "Nice," Gold whispered hoarsely, staring straight down at her  
crotch.

"My place or yours?" she asked. Her faux-masculine voice quavered only a  
little.

"Oh, why not yours? Mine is such a train wreck. I assume you have a decent  
selection of, well, libations and such."

"Why don't you come on up and see?"

He did come on up, but as it turned out, he didn't see a whole lot.  
Lisa's place was illuminated by flickering blue fluorescents, and someone  
unfamiliar with the layout could end up stumbling around and bumping  
into various exemplars of allegedly antique chairs and tables knocked  
together from either butcher block or scrap lumber and orange crates (it  
was hard to tell in the dim light). Gold stumbled around a bit before  
she managed to guide him toward a plush sofa. She pressed a glass part  
full of a cloudy amber liquid into his hand. "Wait here," she said.

The light seemed even dimmer by the time she came back. His head was  
spinning around in tight little circles and he had the distinct feeling  
that he'd need to upchuck before the night got much older. But, there she  
stood, only Gold still hadn't the faintest suspicion that she wasn't a  
_he_ , only that there was this _ravishing_ half-naked creature  
bending over a beanbag chair directly in front of him and -- wow! -- what  
a great-looking ass sticking up there in the air. And, Gold, falling back  
on his tried and true rule of thumb in such situations, began unbuckling  
his metal-studded belt. _Hey, when you've got a fuckable ass staring  
you in the face, the only thing to do is fuck it. Right?_

Lisa, breasts tightly bound up in gossamer and with rampant dildo  
occluding her female opening, was more or less ready to receive him. She  
had lubed up her back passage, and if things went well, Gold wouldn't be  
able to tell the difference between _her_ asshole and a man's. She  
hoped.

It hurt. In his doped up state his aim was a bit off the mark and his  
cock couldn't quite find its way in. Lisa had to guide him with her hand  
and he groaned as he rammed all the way into her with one violent lunge. 

"Ouch, damn you! My asshole is _fragile_! Treat it with respect,  
asshole. Where's your fucking technique?"

"Sorry. My head's a bit muzzy. What was in that fucking drink you  
gave me?"

"Never mind that. Just tend to business. But gently, please."

It got better after that. Quite a bit better. The excitement was  
starting to build from the fullness up in her gut, and from the slippery  
friction and in-out push-pull at the entrance to her ass. The feeling  
was nice, yeah, even better than when she masturbated with a dildo up  
her butt. Real nice. She reached between her legs and began moving the  
silicone plug embedded in her pussy in and out for clit stimulation. Yes,  
indeed. Yes! And then she felt the throbbing and the wetness high up in  
her ass. Gold was coming. Yes!

Then she smelled the characteristic stench of anal sex, compounded of  
various parts of stale semen, used-up lube, and shit residue from her  
rectum. That tipped her over the edge.

She was swept away by a tidal wave of sensation and the spasms of a  
_MegaOrgasm_ began building. Her entire body was shuddering and  
she had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming. She blanked out for  
a moment, only to be drawn back by the sound of his voice.

"Damn!" he said. "I could have sworn . . ."

"What?"

"Never mind."

He abruptly withdrew from her and her ass felt empty. She felt empty  
inside, vacant, as if something had been suctioned out of her soul. Gold  
had given her something, all right, though under false pretenses. But,  
maybe he had robbed her of something, too.

 

Later that night -- and it might well have been a dream -- he was on  
hands and knees facing away from her, forehead grounded, presenting his  
spread-apart naked ass. The vulnerable brown-rimmed hole winked up at  
her. She sank the dildo into him, slowly, all ten inches of it. He moaned,  
and they orgasmed together. _So this is what it's like, being a man._

He was snoring away on the sofa, covered with her best quilt. Probably  
staining it with come and used-up lube, but hey, that was the cost  
of doing business. Time to wake him and trundle him downstairs into a  
taxi. It would be getting light soon and she didn't want him to take too  
close a look at her. Especially since he might have already suspected  
something . . .

"And, that's pretty much the size of it, Mick. I haven't dared take  
him home again, though I have been ringside at a couple more of his  
shows. He's stared at me real funny like, but hasn't actually come over  
to talk to me. So, all I'm left with is the memories of that one night."

"Be happy you have even that, my dear. It was stone cold hopeless right  
from the start."

"Don't you think I know that? But, I couldn't help it. I _can't_  
help it, even now. I still desire him, or anyway my body does. I'll  
probably never see him again, and it's like a part of me has died."

Yes, I've known Lisa for quite a while. Almost as long as I've known  
Gold, in fact. But, she doesn't know that. And, neither does Gold. It  
seems that I'm a mutual acquaintance of the both of them and they're  
both still in the dark about it. And, that's probably for the best.

I first met Gold quite a while back. Only, he wasn't Gold then. He still  
called himself Bronze and he was a bodybuilder, just like me. That's how  
we got together, actually. At the gym.

The moment I saw him I _knew_ I had to have him. I had this sudden  
raging need to smell him and taste him and, yes, feel him inside me. Yes,  
I wanted him _in my ass_. Me, the guy who didn't much care for  
bottoming. Me, Mr. Top himself. Me, the guy whose cock had feasted on  
a thousand asses.

Well, hooking up with him wasn't exactly rocket science. I was in better  
shape back then and all it took was a look at my muscular ass in those  
compression tights to start him drooling. Later that same night he was  
inside me, pumping. Pumping his iron into my flesh.

It was damn good while it lasted. He wasn't much on technique -- he  
developed that later as part of his professional act. But, no matter.  
He was long and he was hard and he could last a good half hour if he put  
his mind to it. Wore my ass out, in fact. And, in between, he let me fuck  
him a few times. Tight, his ass was tight inside. Prime A-1 quality meat.

It didn't last, though. For all that wonderful bod and hard, hard flesh,  
the guy was just plain dumb. Couldn't think his way out of a paper bag  
if his life depended on it. In fact, in an IQ competition between him  
and a box of rocks, I'd put my money on the rocks. Pity.

Yeah, I've known him all these years. Still get together with him once  
in a great while, just for old times' sake, you understand. And, to have  
that wonderful cock massage the inside of my ass, of course. A pretty  
nice feeling, as Lisa found out. But, Gold doesn't belong to her, just  
as he doesn't belong to me. He doesn't belong to _anyone_.  
Not even to himself, I sometimes think.

 

"So, you found your happiness, finally?"

"I wouldn't call it that. Contentment maybe."

"And, when's the wedding date?"

"Later this summer. You'll get an invitation, of course, Mick."

"I can't believe it. Wild little Lisa, married to an accountant. A nice  
whitebread boy from the Jersey suburbs. An intelligent, affable fellow  
making a decent living, who's putting on a teeny bit of weight around  
the middle and who can't see a thing without horn-rim glasses. A geek,  
in other words. But, a _nice_ geek, of course."

"Well, maybe he isn't an Adonis or a fireball in the sack, but you know,  
there's more to a man than that. At least he can hold up his end of a  
conversation, and he's kind and considerate. And, he's housebroken. Unlike  
a certain fine fellow I used to know . . ."

 

Well, that's the story. Lisa settled for what she could get, rather than  
ruining her life running after what was out of reach. And, she landed a  
husband. A soulmate of sorts, I guess. So what if Merle's belly hangs  
over his belt and he has an ass that's as fat as a middle-age woman's?  
So what if he's 20 years older than she is? So what if he has a rancid  
body odor and he's so totally repulsive physically that she has to shut  
her eyes and grit her teeth when they make love? At least she doesn't  
have to wake up in a cold, empty bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Nan Moravia, a once famous torch singer who composed her own songs, died in obscurity a few years back.


End file.
